


For the Kingdom and the Empire

by MademoiselleNoir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent John Winchester, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Eventually though, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, First Time, General Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Invasion, M/M, Other, Prince Dean Winchester, Rebel Sam Winchester, Rimming, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, but just at first, cause our boy is a bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleNoir/pseuds/MademoiselleNoir
Summary: For all intents and purposes, Castiel had been a stable boy.He had taken care of the horses, had fed them, had made sure they had fresh water, and had prepared them for when Prince Dean or King John had wanted to take them for a ride. He had obeyed his superiors and looked down. He had kept quiet when he had stumbled upon the prince messing around with girls.He had even glanced back and smirked at the prince when he had caught him staring, causing those green eyes to widen and pretty face to blush. He had even let the prince bend him over and fuck him a couple of times—for the sole purpose of gaining his trust, of course. Not because the prince’s pretty eyes had gained him a place in Castiel’s heart.So yes, you could have asked anyone in the kingdom of Winchester, and they would have told you that Castiel had been a stable boy. A damn good one, but a stable boy after all.None of them had known, of course, that they’d been talking about general Novak of the Heavenly Empire.They would find out soon enough, Castiel thought when he learned that the Emperor was finally ready to invade Winchester.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s), Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer, Gabriel/Raphael (Supernatural), Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 77
Kudos: 128





	1. The prince has wandering eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New one? New one.  
> Do comment  
> I'll add tags as I go

The hill where General Castiel Novak of the Heavenly Empire stood was windy. The grass and the flowers at his feet moved with it, shaking just like the soldiers battling in the valley beneath. Looking around, Castiel found himself pleasantly surprised by the green around him. The last time he’d been in Winchester, it was the beginning of autumn, and he had gotten out before spring, and so this was the first time he ever witnessed the kingdom’s famous green spring. He found he didn’t mind it in the least.

Beside him, Gabriel’s voice spoke softly:

“Not a bad place to die.”

Castiel nodded and looked down at the battlefield. A small part of him wanted to be there with his men, but he knew he needed to save his strength for the moment when they reached the capital.

“I hear the pretty prince was here up until a few days ago. His father called him back to the castle,” Gabriel kept speaking. “Word on the street is he didn’t like that very much.”

‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Castiel thought.

“He doesn’t like being called pretty,” he said instead, and he didn’t have to look to feel Gabriel’s curious stare on his face. “King John knows he’s losing. He doesn’t want his son dying on the battlefield when he can help defend the capital.”

“And his own ass,” Gabriel completed, and Castiel simply nodded. Gabriel spat on the grass before him. “Sad excuse for a king.”

Castiel didn’t answer, put a pair of green eyes flashed in his memory, accompanied by a soft, quiet voice whispering “he was a good man, once”.

“Perhaps,” Castiel had answered. “But not anymore.”

“How do you think he’ll react?” Gabriel’s voice asked, bringing him back to the present. Castiel did look at him this time. Gabriel was the only one in the Heavenly Empire who knew the extent of his relationship with Prince Dean of Winchester, and his golden eyes seemed to find the entire thing amusing.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered. “He’ll hate me, most likely.” And he would have every right to.

“Yes,” Gabriel smiled. “However he reacts, I’m definitely going to be there to see it.”

Castiel didn’t answer. Green eyes flashed behind his eyelids once more.

* * * * *

Prince Dean of the kingdom of Winchester enjoyed horse riding. This was a well-known fact in the castle, and one of the main reasons why Castiel had decided to become a stable boy and not work in the kitchens when he was planning his infiltration in the Empire’s enemy kingdom.

It was not an unusual sight, people whispered to each other, to see the gorgeous—pretty, in Castiel’s opinion,— prince riding out into the woods with one or two of his knights. Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte, the only female knight, were usually the ones to accompany him.

The townspeople seemed to think that the prince was not simply riding, but searching for his younger brother Samuel, who had disappeared several years prior, but Castiel didn’t believe that. Why would the Crown Prince search for the only person who could threaten his future position as king? No, the prince had probably killed his brother, Castiel thought.

Castiel knew the kind of man Prince Dean was. Masculine, brainless, a brute. He probably had no grasp of strategy whatsoever and believed every man and woman of his kingdom to be beneath him, just like his father. Men like Prince Dean were all talk, and became cowards once their own life was threatened. A weak enemy hiding behind a mask of confidence, Castiel thought. He probably thought that all the women in his kingdom belonged to him, and that his birth gave him the right to hide behind his soldiers.

How did Castiel know all of this? Easy. The former emperor of the Heavenly Empire had been exactly the same, and that was why Gabriel had had such an easy time dethroning him and becoming the ruler.

So, Castiel wasn’t surprised when he arrived at the castle in Winchester and the prince didn’t even spare him a glance when he handed him his horse’s reins.

He also wasn’t surprised when he found the prince balls deep in a woman he’d never seen before a few days later, hiding in one of the dark corners in the stables. The woman had dark hair, and that was about all that Castiel saw before he ran. While walking away, he heard a female voice—the woman’s—say:

“Dean, I think I heard something.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t common for a prince to allow his lovers such familiarity. At least, not in Winchester. He decided to hide in one of the stables, in case this woman was important and could potentially be used against the prince when the Empire invaded Winchester.

“I didn’t… hear anything,” the prince answered, voice breathy and unfocused, and Castiel had to admit that it sounded good.

“Dean…” the woman whined, and Castiel heard the prince sigh. He expected him to ignore her, but he heard the prince’s footsteps shortly after, walking towards the entrance of the stables.

“Is there anyone here?” the prince asked, tone annoyed but friendly enough for a man who’d been interrupted in the throes of passion. “C’mon, I won’t even get angry. If there’s anyone there, either show yourself or get out.”

He chuckled after that, as if he found the concept of speaking to no one entertaining, and then went back to the corner.

“See, darling? There’s no one there,” Castiel heard him say. The woman laughed.

“All right, all right, my prince,” she said, but her tone was mocking. “We may resume our previous activities.”

Dean laughed, and the sound resonated somewhere deep in Castiel’s chest.

“Much obliged,” the prince said in a predatory tone.

After that, Castiel managed to leave the stables unnoticed, but very much surprised.

“I cannot believe you didn’t hit the tree once, Dean,” Lady Charlotte was saying as she entered the stables a few days later. “How long have we been trying to teach you?”

Castiel, who had been brushing one of the horses, hid behind it, curious as to where the conversation was going.

Prince Dean walked in next, his horse behind him, the reins on one hand and a smile on his face. He was rubbing the back of his head with his other hand.

“You know I can’t do shit with bow and arrows, Charlie. Swords just work better for me,” he excused himself. Lady Charlotte huffed as Lord Benjamin walked in.

“What a sad excuse for a prince you are, then,” he mocked, and Prince Dean glared in his general direction and sighed.

“At least I can ride past a woman I want to fuck without falling off the horse,” he answered, and Lady Charlotte let out a laugh while Lord Benjamin scowled.

“It was _one_ time,” he said. “Let it go, brother.”

Prince Dean shook his head.

“Never.”

Lady Charlotte was looking around, probably searching for a stable boy, and Castiel was cursing himself for allowing his curiosity to get the better of him when Aaron, the other stable boy, walked in.

“Oh, hello, Aaron,” Prince Dean smiled. “Hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Aaron blushed, and Castiel wanted to laugh at him. Even though love between men wasn’t allowed in Winchester, he’d learnt that many servant boys admired the prince.

“Good morning, sire,” Aaron answered, taking the reins from the prince. “I’ve been helping out in the kitchens, since the new boy hadn’t arrived.”

The prince nodded and patted Aaron’s back, and the boy looked ready to faint right there. Castiel took pity on him, and taking advantage of the fact that no one was looking in his direction, he came out of his hiding place and acted like he’d just arrived, taking the reins from Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte.

He was taking the horses to their stables when the prince’s voice stopped him:

“I don’t know you.”

Castiel cursed under his breath and turned around, but the look in the prince’s eyes was simply one of curiosity rather than suspicion.

“My name is Castiel, sire,” he said. The prince smiled at him.

“What kind of a name is that?”, he asked, but he was simply being friendly, and so Castiel smiled back.

“I’ve often wondered the same thing myself,” he answered, and the prince laughed again.

“Good to meet you, then, Cas,” he said. “Take good care of my baby."

Castiel blinked at him for a few seconds, and then he realized. He was talking about his horse. Castiel smiled and nodded.

“Of course,” he said.

All right, so maybe the prince wasn’t exactly as Castiel had expected him to be. Maybe he was friendlier and kinder than Castiel had thought he would be. Maybe his eyes sometimes wandered like those of trapped prey do as they look for a way out, and like those of a hungry wolf in other occasions. It didn’t matter, in the end. King John was still a crazed murderer, and Gabriel was still going to invade his kingdom.

The next time he met the prince, he was guiding a different woman—a blond one—to the stables. Prince Dean caught sight of Castiel and winked at him before disappearing with the woman, and Castiel had simply sighed and rolled his eyes.

A few hours later, the prince came back, alone.

“Good afternoon, Cas,” he’d said.

“Hello, sire,” Castiel answered, noticing the nickname for the first time. Well, if it helped him gain the prince’s trust, he could bear with it.

“How’s my girl?” the prince asked, walking up to his horse’s stable and caressing her. Castiel remembered then that the prince hadn’t ridden that morning.

“She missed you,” he said.

Prince Dean smirked at him.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “Did she write me a poem?”

“A love letter, actually.”

The prince laughed at that, his eyes shining as he stared at Castiel a little too much. Castiel raised his eyebrows. Well, wasn’t that interesting. Perhaps the prince wasn’t solely entertained by women. After a few seconds, the prince cleared his throat and looked away.

“I wonder how she wrote it, having hooves and everything,” said, and he looked at Castiel expectantly, like he was hoping for another witty reply.

Castiel put down the hay he’d been rearranging and approached the prince, willing to test his new theory.

“The truth is, sire, that I wrote the letter,” he answered in a secretive tone, smiling at the prince. “She simply dictated.”

Castiel stopped merely a few steps away from the prince, and the prince swallowed visibly.

“Well, I’m sure she appreciates it very much,” he said, moving away from Castiel almost imperceptibly. Castiel smirked to himself and moved closer.

“I’m sure she does,” he answered. “But do _you_ , my prince?”

The prince swallowed again. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Castiel simply stood there, smiling, enjoying the panic he was witnessing.

“Dean!” he heard a powerful voice howler. The prince instantly straightened, all hesitation gone from his expression, eyes suddenly made of steel and hands clenched in fists.

“Dean, I swear to all the gods, if you’re messing around with some wench instead of coming to the meeting—,” the voice kept on going, and Castiel stepped away from the prince and went back to rearranging the hay.

“I’m here, Father!” the prince yelled then, and suddenly there were steps approaching and King John entered the stables. He was a tall man, with dark hair like a raven’s wings and a stern look in his eyes. The prince swallowed again, and Castiel thought that he liked it better when he was nervous because of him.

“I was just checking on Impala,” the prince said.

King John looked at his son, a frown on his face, and finally nodded. He gave Castiel a distracted look, but ignored him completely as he spoke:

“Good. It’s important to make sure your horse is healthy. Now come. Bobby is waiting for us.”

Dean looked down and followed his father, all of him tense and completely different from the smiling man Castiel had seen just days before, laughing with Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte. Completely different from the nervous, sweet man who’d joked about his horse writing love letters, as well.

Castiel was beginning to think that there was a lot he didn’t know about the prince and his wandering eyes.


	2. The general has a wandering heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2; enjoy!

They reached the city gates a week after the battle in the valley.

“Cowards,” Raphael scowled.

“Calm your tits, General,” Balthazar answered, and Inias chuckled.

They were all gathered in the war tent, trying to come up with a plan to enter a city that hadn’t been conquered in over five hundred years. One could feel the anger and frustration in the air, and since Raphael couldn’t take it out on another General, he snarled at Inias.

“Enough,” Castiel intervened. Inias smirked at Raphael, and he scowled again, but didn’t say anything.

“Did you find out anything relevant in your time here as the prince’s cuddle toy?” Lucifer asked, and Castiel almost frowned. Even though the man was the former Emperor’s younger brother, and he had helped them overthrow him, Castiel didn’t particularly like him.

“There’s a secret entrance the servants use to go out,” he answered nonetheless. “I will sneak in and open the gates tomorrow night.”

“What if someone sees you?” Raphael asked, much more calm.

“I know many people in the city, but I don’t think anyone will recognize me. If they do, I’ll simply pretend I’m back. If anyone seems to suspect me, I’ll kill them,” Castiel answered.

Once everyone had agreed and left the tent, and only Castiel and Gabriel were left, golden eyes met blue and a voice asked:

“What will you do if Prince Dean sees you and suspects you?”

Castiel stared back at him.

“Even if he sees me, he won’t suspect me,” he answered.

Gabriel frowned.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

Castiel contemplated his answer. His hand flew to the dagger he always wore on his belt, right beside his sword. The dagger engraved with very small letters that said “D.W.”.

“Dean doesn’t usually suspect the people he loves.”

* * * * *

The prince’s wandering eyes soon turned to wandering hands.

Granted, Castiel had encouraged that by becoming all bright eyes and easy smiles when the prince was present, but still, he was shocked by his willingness to engage in activities his father had forbidden so clearly. Castiel knew he would be killed if they were ever found out, but he didn’t stop. He told himself he did it in order to gain the prince’s trust, but he found himself dreaming about the sweet way Prince Dean looked at him whenever he was kissed breathless.

Since it was clear that Prince Dean had no experience with men, Castiel allowed himself to be fucked for the first time in a very long time. It was sweet, really, the way the prince touched him and seemed to marvel at how much he liked doing so with a man.

The prince took him outside the city walls using an entrance the servants liked to use to escape to the fields outside of the city walls to get drunk at night, and dragged him to an abandoned farm.

“No one’s lived here in forever,” the prince explained, smiling mischievously, and Castiel wondered how a man could be so pretty. “Sammy and I used to come here and play all the time.”

Prince Dean’s distant smile when discussing his brother had been enough to make Castiel realize there was no way he would ever hurt his “Sammy”, which made him wonder exactly what had happened to the youngest prince of Winchester. However, no matter how he tried to pry, the prince never said a word about where his brother was.

“I’m honored,”Castiel answered then, and let the prince drag him to a surprisingly comfortable bed. There, he kissed Castiel until they were both dizzy.

“Some day,” Prince Dean said, in between kisses to Castiel’s chest. “I want _you_ inside of me.”

“I’d like that,” Castiel moaned, and was horrified to realize that he actually did. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be this sweet, inexperienced man’s first while lying to his face. So he added: “but for now, just fuck me.”

Prince Dean obliged.

Part of the reason why Castiel had realized the kind of man Prince Dean really was had been how gently he prepared and fucked him. He always made sure he was fully stretched, practically begging for it, before even considering getting inside him. And when he was, he rocked gently and kissed Castiel sweetly until Castiel asked him to move faster or go harder.

After they fucked, if they had the time—and Prince Dean made sure that they always did—, Prince Dean would simply hold Castiel close, sometimes kissing him, sometimes caressing him, sometimes doing both, sharing his warmth. Castiel knew—he _knew_ —that he would break Prince Dean’s heart. At first, it had been an added bonus to getting involved with him. Now, it was regrettable, collateral damage.

By the time Prince Dean finally penetrated him, Castiel was close to tears. The prince looked down at him, a sardonic glint in his eyes, as he slid inside him and hit his prostate on the first try. After he’d first found it, he hadn’t had any difficulties doing it again every time they fucked.

“Oh, gods,” Castiel moaned, and the prince chuckled.

“No, it’s just Dean,” he answered, and Castiel would’ve glared at him if the bastard hadn’t decided to move away and then thrust back in. He moved at an agonizingly slow pace, and Castiel had no energy to do anything but shiver any time his prostate was touched. Even though he preferred to be the one doing the fucking, he had to admit that he enjoyed the prince’s cock immensely.

“Oh, please,” he begged, and the prince smiled. Castiel looked up at him through his eyelashes and pouted. The prince was weak to pouting, and pleading, and any appeal to his mercy.

“Please, what?” he asked, nonetheless. Castiel almost laughed, but it wouldn’t fit the character he was playing.

“Go faster,” he begged again, and the prince pretended to mull it over.

“Say my name, and I will,” he answered. Castiel stared at him. The prince chuckled, but something in his eyes was very, very sad. “You’ve never called me by my name, Cas.”

He’d stopped moving, and he was still inside of Castiel, staring right into his eyes. It’d been a long time since Castiel had felt this vulnerable.

“You call me ‘sire’, and ‘my prince’, but never Dean,” the prince kept explaining. “Call me Dean.”

“Why?” Castiel asked, and he was being honest for a change. “You _are_ the prince. What difference does it make what I call you?”

Prince Dean closed his eyes, but not before Castiel saw the hurt in them. He shouldn’t have cared. He did.

“You’re...” the prince began, and then swallowed. “You’re my lover, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, and frowned. He didn’t understand. But the prince wasn’t finished:

“All of my lovers call me by my name. You’re my lover,” and he looked at Castiel again, and it was so clear that he wanted him to understand so he wouldn’t have to say it, but he didn’t, and so the prince had to close his eyes again and add:

“You’re my first man, Cas,” he paused to breathe deeply. “You’re important. You have to call me by my name because you’re my lover and my first man, and you’re…”

And with that, Castiel understood.

Despite what it had seemed, the prince had been struggling to deal with his desires for men and his father’s teachings. Castiel was his lover, and all of his lovers called him by his name.The prince wanted Castiel to do the same, because he wanted to remind himself that this was alright, that Castiel was just as valid as his female lovers.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, and Dean opened his eyes again. This time, they were filled with hope and light and Castiel smiled. “I understand now, Dean.”

With that, the prince kissed him and began moving again, and Castiel was shocked to realize that he hadn’t lost his erection with the emotional conversation, and that screaming the prince’s name was, as it happened, extremely arousing.

Castiel came first, and then Dean did, emptying himself with a few, harder thrusts, and falling on top of Castiel. Castiel held the prince against him, and felt him breathe against his neck, and knew that the prince was close to tears, and that this had been more important to him than their first time.

It was in that moment, Castiel would ponder later on, that Dean finally made his way into Castiel’s heart.

A few days later, as Dean slept against his chest, both of them in the farm, the door to the bedroom opened, and Lord Benjamin walked in. Castiel wasn’t surprised; he’d seen the big man follow them when they left the castle, but he also knew that this was Dean’s closest friend, and that Dean trusted him with his life.

Lord Benjamin looked at them, and Castiel had the sudden urge to cover Dean’s sweet, sleeping face so no one but him would ever see it again.

“Hello, Lord Benjamin,” Castiel said softly.

“Hello, Castiel,” Lord Benjamin answered, still looking at his friend.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really,” Lord Benjamin chuckled. “He’s not exactly subtle.”

Castiel laughed with him. That was absolutely correct.

“If you break his heart, I’ll gut you,” Lord Benjamin threatened in the same low tone he’d been speaking with, and something in his eyes made Castiel realize that, even though he didn’t look it, Lord Benjamin was, in fact, a dangerous man.

“I’ll try my best not to,” Castiel said, because it was the best he could do without lying. It was enough for Lord Benjamin, it seemed. The man turned around and left, and Castiel looked down at Dean’s sleeping face and smiled lightly. Did this lonely man know how beloved he truly was?

“Sammy’s not coming back,” Dean finally confided in him weeks later. Castiel, who’d been pretending to tend to Impala when he’d actually been staring at Dean’s pretty ass, tilted his head to the side when the prince turned around to look at him.

“What do you mean?” he asked. It was rare for Dean to volunteer any information, especially about his brother, and even though getting it back to Gabriel should’ve been Castiel’s first priority, it wasn’t.,

“He doesn’t want to have anything to do with the throne, and with the king,” Dean answered. Castiel had noticed that he always referred to his father as “the king”, and never as “my father”.

“He would have inherited the kingdom, you know,” Dean kept going. Castiel wanted to ask him about it, but he was afraid that he would startle Dean out of the haze he seemed to be in and make him stop talking. However, Dean kept speaking without any prompting:

“He was always the intelligent one. I’m good at riding, and fighting, and strategy, but not at ruling. Sammy knew how to move at court, and always managed to come out on top whenever he fought with a noble. I’m not…” he trailed off, but his meaning was clear. “I’m not as smart as my brother.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Dean seemed to realize what he’d said, and he looked panicked. His eyes were wide when he looked at Castiel, and Castiel wanted to hold him. But they were in the stables so all he did was approach Dean, hold his face in his hands and smile at him.

“You’re one of the kindest, wisest men I’ve ever met, Dean,” he said, and then enjoyed watching the blush take over Dean’s face.

“You’re lovely,” he added, and was rewarded with a new wave of red.

“Stop,” Dean whispered.

“Why?” Castiel smiled mockingly. “Is it not proper for a prince to blush?” he asked, taking Dean’s hips in his hands. Dean blushed further and looker around, but he didn’t pull away. Castiel chuckled and kissed the corner of his mouth before letting go and going back to the horse.

“You’re wicked,” Dean said behind him, and Castiel smiled to himself.

“You love it,” he answered.

He didn’t look back at Dean. If he had, he might have seen the expression on his face when he answered:

“I do.”


	3. The farewell he didn't want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter three!  
> This is the last one with happy flashbacks, so enjoy.

The kingdom of Winchester fell infuriatingly easily.

Someone had persuaded the king to surrender, it would seem. That, or he was dead, for as soon as the Heavenly Empire’s trumpets sounded, the castle waved a white flag and a delegation came out to speak to Castiel and the other generals. It was a relief, really, since Castiel doubted that they would’ve been able to take the castle easily, even if the city was theirs.

In the delegation that came out was Lord Robert—which Dean had referred to as Bobby—, Lady Ellen, and Lord Benjamin. Of course, the latter recognized Castiel the moment he laid eyes on him. The man’s eyes darkened, and Castiel resisted the impulse to take a step back and hide behind Gabriel’s ridiculously large cape—because he was the Emperor, of course.

But Lord Benjamin didn’t attack Castiel. His eyes turned from angry to sad, and he shook his head.

“I asked you not to break his heart,” he said, softly enough so that only Castiel would hear.

“I know," he answered, in his best careless tone.

Lord Benjamin shook his head again.

“He loved you,” he said instead, sadly.

Castiel didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to; he’d been aware of Dean’s feelings for him. He’d used them to get the information he needed. There was no excuse for his actions. He had nothing else to say. But Lord Benjamin did.

“I _will_ kill you,” he said. “I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but I will.”

Castiel believed him.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

With that out of the way, they turned to the negotiations.

Lord Robert began by shocking them all:

“Dean—Prince Dean, that is—locked his father away and took the throne.”

“What?” Raphael asked, raising his eyebrows. Gabriel chuckled incredulously and turned to Castiel for confirmation. Castiel nodded. If his father had refused to surrender and had been willing to let his people die, Dean would’ve intervened.

“So the decision to surrender was his?” Gabriel asked. Lord Robert nodded. “Wonderful.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Have you heard from Prince Samuel?” he asked, and Lord Robert tensed and glared at him.

“As you probably know, Prince Samuel is believed to have died—,” he began, but Castiel interrupted him:

“Yes, but he’s not dead.”

“You seem very sure,” the man said, looking like an angry beaver.

“I am.”

“And why would that be?”

Lord Benjamin chose that moment to intervene, leaning towards Lord Robert and whispering something in his ear. Lord Robert’s eyes widened and he looked at Castiel with more attention.

“ _That’s_ Cas!?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

The pet name hit Castiel like a ton of bricks. The fact that Dean had discussed him with this man, who Castiel knew he cared for dearly, hit him harder.

“Yes, he is,” Gabriel smiled, and Lord Robert turned white, eyes ablaze with fury.

“You son of a—”

“Let’s not lose our temper,” Lady Ellen spoke for the first time. They all turned to her. “We’re here to negotiate our surrender, not to get angry over Dean.”

Lord Robert seemed ready to argue, but she gave him a stern look and he kept quiet.

“Dean’s a big boy, Bobby,” she said. “He’ll deal with this son of a bitch himself.”

“You just insulted him!” Lord Robert objected, and she smiled and shook her head.

“Yes, but I didn’t scream it at him,” she answered. “I did it matter-of-factly, and he’s not insulted because he knows what he did and he knows I’m right,” she turned to Castiel, “aren’t you?”

Castiel couldn’t tell her otherwise.

“Now that that’s out of our way,” Lady Ellen continued. “Our conditions are simple. Do not harm our people, and we’ll surrender ourselves. Dean asks that you harm no one, noble or peasant, barring himself and his father, of course.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened.

“He’s not asking for his own safety?”

Lady Ellen chuckled.

“Clearly, you’ve never met the boy. His own safety is the last thing in his mind. He would die a thousand deaths if it meant the safety of his people. Therefore, _he_ won’t ask for his safety.”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side and chuckled again.

“But I’m guessing you will,” he said. Lady Ellen smiled.

“I wouldn’t dare impose on our mighty conqueror,” she said, her tone clearly mocking. “But since we’ve dropped the pretense of Sam being dead, I can tell you that that boy will not stop until you’re dead if you hurt his brother.”

Gabriel laughed at that.

“I don’t fear a snot-nosed kid who was too afraid to stay in his own damn kingdom,” Raphael chose to cut in with, and the smile in Lady Ellen’s face made it clear that she’d been waiting for something along those lines.

“Sam didn’t leave Winchester because he was scared, General,” she said. “I can assure you that you do not want to see him when he’s pissed off.”

Seeing Raphael’s intent clear on his face, Castiel decided to step in:

“We have no intention to harm Dean.” He looked at Lady Ellen and Lord Robert and tried to make sure that the truth of his words was reflected in his eyes. “I cannot say the same for his father, though.”

“He’s a miserable bastard,” Gabriel added for good measure, and Castiel had the sudden, inexplicable urge to facepalm.

“That he is,” Lady Ellen agreed, shocking everyone around her except for Lord Robert, who nodded sagely.

“Dean won’t take it well if you harm his father, but we can deal with him,” Lord Benjamin said, and the other two nodded in agreement.

“However,” Lord Robert said, eyes burning up again. “If you harm one person in Winchester, I can assure you that Dean won’t be your only problem.”

It was a wise move, Castiel realized, to surrender while you still have an army to gather if your enemy chooses to ignore the conditions. Even if they demilitarized Winchester, there would always be the chance for a rebellion lurking in the back, reminding the Empire to keep their end of the bargain.

“Very well,” Gabriel smiled, because he was a good man and he didn’t want any more bloodshed. “Go tell Dean that we’ll see each other in the morning, after we’ve drafted a treaty.”

With that, the meeting was over.

* * * * *

The last time Castiel and Dean fucked was, by far, the saddest.

At least, on Castiel’s part.

He’d received a message from Gabriel that morning, telling him that it was time to leave Winchester and start planning the invasion. And so he’d packed his things, and had considered how he would say goodbye to Dean.

In the end, he’d chosen not to. It would be easier. Whether it would be easier for Dean or for himself was another matter entirely.

He would leave in the early hours of the morning, and there was a banquet, so Castiel waited until King John was drunk and dragged Dean to the prince’s own rooms.

Dean never drank.

He did, however, smile lopsidedly as he allowed Castiel to pull on his arm.

“My rooms?” he asked. “Is it a special occasion?”

Castiel laughed and pulled him in before closing the wooden door and pressing him against it. After a kiss that left Dean shuddering, he finally answered:

“Any occasion with you is a special occasion, my prince.”

Dean snickered, but nor before Castiel saw the flush in his cheeks.

“You’ve been spending too much time with our bard, Cas,” Dean said. “Next thing I know, you’ll be writing me love poems.”

Castiel chuckled and kissed him again.

“Well, Impala _has_ had an influence in me,” he joked, and it took Dean a moment to remember their first actual conversation before the prince was blushing all over again and shaking his head.

“I can’t believe I actually said those things to you,” he whispered, and Castiel simply had to kiss him again, surrounding him with his arms and moving on to sucking on the prince’s neck. Dean made a sound suspiciously close to a whimper.

“Even then,” Castiel said between kisses and gentle bites, “you were simply enthralled by me.”

Dean chuckled, but he didn’t deny it.

“I…” he began, soft and sweet, and Castiel pulled away to look him in the eye. Dean looked away before continuing: “I… I want you… I wantyou _in_ me.”

Castiel’s breath caught. He held Dean closer and kissed the side of his head, and Dean let himself be pampered _for once_ and it broke Castiel’s heart that he had to leave him and harm him like he was going to.

“I can’t,” he whispered in Dean’s ear, and then, before the prince misunderstood and pulled away: “Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, in a low tone that made Castiel proud. A month ago, Dean wouldn’t have asked. He simply would have assumed the worst and left it alone.

“It would be your first time, wouldn’t it, my love?” he asked in a sweet voice, so Dean would know that no matter what the answer was, it would be fine. He said “my love”, because he knew that was what Dean was—and would always be.

“Yes,” Dean answered, clearly dazed by Castiel’s tone, and closeness, and words.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” Castiel said, and he wanted to explain, but he couldn’t.

What he meant was that he didn’t want to take Dean’s first time while lying to his face, merely hours before leaving and while Dean had no idea of who he truly was.

What he said was that they had to wait to make sure Dean wouldn’t be in pain, which wasn’t technically a lie, but still felt bitter on his tongue.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Dean said, because he was in love with Castiel, and love made you do stupid things, like ignoring what you saw in someone’s eyes. The trust Dean had in him—the display of blind faith as he didn’t question anything Castiel told him, even as Castiel was sure that his face showed his sorrow—broke his heart all over again.

“So, what do you want to do?” Dean asked then, putting his hands on Castiel’s chest, looking at him with those green eyes, and really, Castiel had never even had a chance.

He laid Dean down on the bed, getting on top for once, and showered his entire body with kisses, undressing him as he went from his neck to his chest, and then his legs—carefully ignoring the prince’s clearly interested cock—, and then his mouth all over again.

“Cas,” Dean begged, his hands on Castiel’s hair as he devoured the prince’s mouth.

“Yes, dear?” Castiel asked, smiling, and Dean swatted at him. Castiel laughed and launched an attack on Dean’s very sensitive nipples that had the prince groaning and reconsidering his position.

“Please,” he begged, in that breathless manner he rarely allowed.

“Please, what, my love?” Castiel mocked. Dean whined.

“Touch me,” he pleaded.

Castiel loved it when Dean got like this. He was always the strong one, the stoic one, the one who did all the pleasuring. Sure, he took his own pleasure as well, but it was so rare for him to be simply made into a whining mess that Castiel wanted to do it over and over until Dean knew nothing else. Now, as the prince writhed before him, he chose to make it a little more difficult for him:

“Touch you, where?”

Dean blushed. He looked away. He looked back at Castiel. He covered his eyes with his arm. Castiel waited, smiling and confident.

“My cock,” Dean asked. “Please, Cas, make me finish.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Cas said, and then he bent over and put his mouth on him.

“Oh, gods,” Dean moaned as Cas sucked on his cockhead and proceded to lick his balls. Cas couldn’t resist.

“No, it’s just Castiel,” he said, and before Dean could admonish him for throwing his words back at his face, Cas managed to swallow his entire cock in one go.

Dean moaned, head snapping back and words forgotten, as Castiel bobbed his head and used his hands to toy with the prince’s balls and circle his rim at the same time.

“Cas, Cas, I’m gonna… Mmmm, oh, gods,” Dean tried to say, and then again, valiantly: “I’m about to… Oh, I’m…”

Castiel knew that he was trying to warn him before coming down his throat, but he let the prince keep trying to speak because he enjoyed the way he trailed off when Castiel pressed his finger against his entrance softly. If he’d needed confirmation that Dean would enjoy getting fucked, this was it.

A few moments later, Dean came in Cas’ mouth, and Cas made sure the prince was watching when he swallowed his come. After that, Cas masturbated and came embarrassingly fast as Dean watched, and they fell asleep embracing, Dean’s head on his chest.

In the early morning, taking advantage of the rare, absolute relaxation of Dean’s body, Castiel kissed him softly and disentangled himself from him. He got dressed and caressed the prince’s face.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered as he kissed Dean’s beloved cheek. “I’m very, deeply sorry.”

And then, without looking back or hesitating any further, he left the prince, and then Winchester.


	4. Mocking emperors and drunk princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is chapter 4  
> Beware, and please leave a comment.

It was clear that Dean had been warned about Castiel before they saw each other the following day.

The prince’s face was absolutely emotionless as he stared down his former lover, and Castiel couldn’t help but to feel emptied out. He knew how hard it was for Dean to show himself as he truly was, and to be the one who’d betrayed him was disheartening.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, as he walked into Winchester’s throne room a few steps behind Gabriel, Inias at his side.

“General Novak,” Dean answered, and his voice didn’t tremble, and he didn’t flinch, and Castiel was too far away to see if his eyes let anything through.

“What a cozy welcome,” Inias whispered, and Castiel smiled at him slightly.

Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte were standing at Dean’s right, and Lady Ellen and Lord Robert stood at his left, a blond girl Castiel had never met with them.

“Welcome, Heavenly Emperor,” Dean said then, staring right at Gabriel, not vowing.

Gabriel smirked.

“Thank you, Prince Dean,” he said. “Please, call me Gabriel.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t offer the same courtesy.

“I believe you’ve met Lord Robert, Lady Ellen and Lord Benjamin,” he said, and when Gabriel nodded, he continued, pointing to the redhead at his right: “This is Lady Charlotte, and that,” he pointed at the blond girl, “is Lady Joanna, Lady Ellen’s daughter. They form my Council.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow shot up.

“Your Council?” he asked. “Are you the king?”

Dean looked away. Castiel knew that face. He was embarrassed.

“No,” he answered. “My father is still alive. He is, however, in the dungeon."

“In the dungeon?” Gabriel asked, and then roared in laughter. “You put your father—your king— in the dungeon?”

Dean tilted his head to the side.

“You killed your emperor, _Gabriel_ ,” he answered. Gabriel tensed, and then laughed again.

“I see your point,” he said. “But I should hope that your father isn’t nearly as bad as Michael was.”

Dean didn’t answer, and Castiel saw him shudder.

Oh.

Something had happened. Something bad. Very bad. King John had done something to his son. Castiel ached to find out what, but he didn’t dare to ask, especially not in front of other people.

“The treaty has been written,” Gabriel said then, and Dean looked back at him. “I sent it a few hours before our arrival.”

“Yes, we read it,” Dean nodded. “We signed it, too.”

“Good,” Gabriel said. “Now we only have to decide what to do about your father.”

Dean tensed again, and Lord Benjamin reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. Dean seemed comforted by it, and Castiel was glad to know that he wasn’t alone in whatever he was going through.

“My father was a good man, a long time ago,” Dean began, something bittersweet in his tone. “But he has done terrible things. He is no longer fit to be king, and he’ll be judged and sentenced here, according to Winchester law. If it pleases you, we’ll submit the sentence for your approval, but he _will_ be put to trial here.”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side and stared at Dean for a few seconds, and Castiel was reminded of the night when he’d killed Michael. He’d never wanted to see Gabriel look like that again, but he suspected he would. Being ruthless was, unfortunately, an inherent part of ruling.

“Very well,” Gabriel finally said. “But if the sentence is not satisfactory, we’ll speak again.”

Dean nodded.

“We’ll stay here for some time,” Balthazar said then, stepping up to Castiel’s side. “Weeks, maybe months. Maybe just until the sentence is carried. Then we’ll go back to the Heavenly City, and with luck, you’ll never see us again.”

Dean clenched his teeth, but nodded again. He looked at Castiel and then looked away again. For the first time since they’d met, Castiel could not read him.

“Think he hates you?” Inias whispered at his side.

Castiel shrugged.

“I think he wishes he could,” he answered, something cold and yet scalding filling his chest.

Inias shook his head and chuckled.

“Poor bastard,” he said, and Castiel’s jaw tensed.

“He wouldn’t appreciate that description,” he answered, and Inias laughed again.

“I wasn’t talking about him, old friend,” and then, when Castiel stared at him, frowning; “You’re so in love with him it borders on ridiculous.”

Castiel felt himself blush.

“Hush, fool,” he said. “Do not speak of things you do not understand.”

Inias chuckled.

“Whatever you say, oh mighty General.”

Castiel shook his head, and then looked at Dean again, only to find him glaring at them. Castiel swallowed. He’d expected the anger, but it was still heartbreaking.

The preparations for the feast were exhausting.

Yes, there was a feast. Yes, it was rather pointless. So why was Castiel organizing it? Because the custom in Winchester was to feed the poor of the city any time the castle had a feast, and Dean had called for one with that in mind, and Castiel loved him even more for it.

So there he was, down in the kitchens, arguing with a rather large man about Gabriel’s food, when Lady Charlotte walked in looking for a snack.

“Oh, shit,” she said when she saw him, and turned to leave, and then apparently thought better of it and turned to him again.

Castiel braced himself.

“You’re awful,” she said.

The cook took one look at each of them and then made himself scarce. Castiel sighed and stared at Lady Charlotte, waiting for the rest of it, knowing he had no right to defend himself in this.

“I mean, the coming here and working in the castle I understand,” she kept going, walking slowly towards him, “but did you have to do that to Dean? Did you have to make him care for you and then break his heart like that? Do you really hate him—hate Winchester—that much?”

Castiel didn’t answer. He simply stared at her, and was mildly surprised when she didn’t look away. It seemed that Dean brought the ferocious side in everyone around him. He almost smiled at the thought, imagining Dean as a little kitten surrounded by all these feral cats who would defend him with everything they had.

Finally, he sighed and took a cup of wine from the table by his side. He drank a sip and looked back at Lady Charlotte.

“I don’t hate Winchester,” he said. “And I don’t hate Dean.”

“Then why?” she asked.

“Because I am a fool,” he answered, and then he left the kitchens before she could guess the truth.

With his luck, he really shouldn’t have been surprised to bump into Dean moments later, in the hallway that led to the stables.

“Dean,” he said, and he though that everything he felt was either showing on his face or his voice.

“No,” Dean simply said, and kept walking.

Fair enough, Castiel thought, even has his heart felt like it was being crushed by a clenching fist.

“What ails you, my General?” Gabriel asked some days later, the day of the feast. Castiel was sitting on his bed, watching him decide between one garment and the other. “Is it perhaps our esteemed prince of Winchester?”

Castiel shook his head.

“Don’t, Gabriel,” he warned, but the Emperor simply laughed.

“Come on, Cassie, was much as I enjoy your pining, it _is_ getting rather repetitive,” Gabriel mocked, and Castiel glared at him.

Gabriel laughed to himself, and then became serious all of a sudden in that way everyone but his closest friends found unsettling.

“The moment he lends you an ear, you must apologize,” he said. Castiel nodded. He knew that. “And you must make sure that he knows how much you care for him. He may never forgive you, but at least he’ll know the truth.”

Castiel shook his head and wondered once more when the snotty kid who’d teased and pranked had become so regal.

“One should think that the Emperor if the Heavenly Empire wouldn’t have time for my personal problems,” he joked, and Gabriel smirked at him.

“Dear Cassie, you should know that I am, before anything else, deeply fond of drama and theatrics.”

“What a sorry Emperor,” Castiel answered, imitating his smile.

“Says the pining General,” Gabriel shot back.

They glared at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing, and that’s how Raphael found them minutes later, Castiel laying on the Emperor’s bed, laughing like an idiot, and Gabriel in a state of disarray, chest on sight, bent over himself with laughter.

“You are both insane,” he mumbled, looking away from Gabriel’s nakedness. The Emperor raised an eyebrow, clearly interested by this.

“Oh, come on, Raph, you must take the stick out of your ass,” he commented, and then, when Raphael looked flustered; “or would you like me to take it out for you?”

Raphael’s answer was very eloquent.

“W—what?” he asked, looking at Gabriel and mumbling even further. “Your Majesty, what—?”

“That is my cue to leave,” Castiel said then, getting up, unable to stand Gabriel’s flirting without being reminded of Dean.

“But we were having so much fun,” Gabriel protested.

Castiel smiled lopsidedly at him.

“You’ll find another way to entertain yourself, I believe,” he chuckled, glancing at Raphael.

Gabriel followed his eyes and smirked at Raphael, who was staring at the both of them, absolutely flabbergasted.

“I’m sure I will,” Gabriel said, smiling at his shocked General.

As Castiel left the room, he wondered when _that_ had happened. Gabriel and Raphael? Unexpected, but not inherently bad. They _had_ known each other their entire lives, and they were different enough to balance each other out.

Whatever it was, Castiel simply wished for his friend to be happy.

Later that night, at the feast, Castiel witnessed something he had never thought he would see.

Prince Dean of Winchester, known for his sobriety, was currently drinking wine and ale as if they were water. Castiel frowned, staring at him from his seat besides Gabriel, and so he saw the sad glance Lord Benjamin directed at his friend. Clearly, he was not the only one perturbed by the image in front of him.

When they got up from their seats, and everyone began dancing, Castiel stood by a column and watched Dean dance with Lady Charlotte, Lady Joanna and Lady Ellen.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to find Lord Benjamin standing beside him.

“Come to kill me?” he asked bitterly, taking a sip of his own wine.

Lord Benjamin shook his head.

“He didn’t start drinking because of you,” he answered instead. Castiel looked at him from the corner of his eye. Lord Benjamin sighed and shook his head. “It was after King John did something to him.”

Castiel felt himself tense.

“What did he do?” he asked.

Lord Benjamin shook his head.

“Not my story to tell,” he answered, beginning to walk away. “I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t you.”

Castiel frowned and crossed his arms.

“Why?” he asked. “Why would you give me this mercy?”

Lord Benjamin’s answer was almost inaudible as he walked away:

“Because he needs to talk about it with someone, and he loves you.”

As he watched Dean become drunker and drunker, Castiel wondered what the king had done to the only son who’d stayed behind. Once more, he wanted to march himself to the dungeon and beat the king senseless. Sadly, since the trial had been postponed until after the feast, he wouldn’t see him suffer for a while.

By the time Gabriel retired, Dean was leaning on a wall. Castiel wanted to go to him so desperately that it hurt, but he expected his friends to help him. However, Lady Charlotte and Lady Joanna had disappeared together, Lord Robert and Lady Ellen had retired a bit earlier, and Lord Benjamin was nowhere to be seen.

So, Castiel was the only one left.

He approached Dean carefully, but the prince still glared at him drunkenly the second he looked up and saw him.

“Go away,” the prince said, slurring his words. Castiel wanted to throttle him, or to hold him. He hadn’t decided.

“You’re drunk, Dean,” he said.

Dean glared.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat out, and Castiel tried really hard not to let it hurt him.

“You’re drunk, sire,” he repeated, and Dean shook his head.

“No, ‘m not.”

“Sire—”

“So what if I am?” Dean asked, trying to stand without the wall supporting him. “ ’S not like you care, anyways.”

Castiel closed his eyes for a second to feel the blow and opened them just in time to see Dean falling forward. Castiel caught him in his arms, and suddenly the world was warm again and it smelled of fresh leaves and Dean and all he wanted to do was inhale and hold tighter.

Dean pushed himself away and leaned back against the wall, looking rather perturbed.

“Maybe I _am_ drunker than I thought,” he admitted. “But I still want you to go away.”

“I understand,” Castiel said. “But you should get to bed, and I don’t think you’ll manage it on your own.”

Dean looked around for his friends, and when he saw none, he nodded slightly. Castiel knew him well enough to deduce that he wouldn’t want to be seen like this by anyone he didn’t trust, and while he didn’t trust Castiel, it was better than a complete stranger.

He offered Dean his arm and was slightly shocked when the prince took it and allowed Castiel to support him as they made their way to his rooms. Dean walked as elegantly as possible for a man as drunk as he was, trying not to lean on Castiel and to touch him as little as possible.

When they reached the prince’s rooms, Dean was practically asleep on his feet, and so Castiel was the one to lay him down on his bed and take off his shoes.

“Cas,” the prince whispered, but when Castiel looked up, he saw that his eyes were still closed.

“Yes, Dean?” he answered nonetheless, and something warm spread in his chest when Dean smiled a sweet smile when he heard his voice.

“Cas,” Dean repeated, pouting now, clearly distressed even as he slept. Castiel knew that Dean wouldn’t want him to if he was awake, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking the prince’s hand.

“I’m here, my love,” he whispered, as Dean clutched his hand.

Castiel allowed himself to stay there until Dean was truly asleep, contemplating his life. The fearsome General Novak, tamed by this lovely prince, he thought. What would the kings he’d dethroned say? They’d probably laugh their asses off.

When Dean was finally sleeping, Castiel bent down and kissed his forehead before letting go of his hand and leaving the room.

 _Goodnight, my love_ , he thought.


	5. Trials and horseshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I watched 15x18. Yes I'll never be the same. No I won't comment.  
> Enjoy, and leave a comment : )

Castiel had heard once that love was a double edged sword. It could feel like the sun on one’s face, the cold rain after a hot day, the smell of fresh flowers and clean sheets, but it could also be a mother’s desperate wail, a knife to the throat and the instant pain of fire on the skin.

All of that, he thought, was horseshit.

There was no double edge. It was all one.

He felt it all at once. Even when seeing Dean was painful, it was also wonderful. Even when Dean brought him nothing but joy, he was also a painful shadow on his heart.

There was no double edge.

“You look wearier and wearier, my friend,” Inias said three days after the feast. Castiel was sitting at Gabriel’s table for breakfast, staring at Dean’s empty seat. It was the first day of the king’s trial, and he longed to see how the prince fared.

“You, however, look fresher and fresher,” Castiel answered.

Inias smiled.

“Are you ready for this?”

Castiel shook his head. Traditionally, trials against nobles in Winchester lasted at least four days; one for accusations from peasants, another for accusations from other nobles, another left for accusations from royals, merely as a courtesy, and the last one, for defense.

However, there had been so many requests to present accusations against King John that it seemed that the trial would last at least a week, if not more.

“I wonder what this man has done to garner so much contempt amongst his people,” Inias commented, and Castiel made a noncommittal sound, even though he had a pretty good idea. Dean had told him that the King had been a good man, before his wife had died. Once Queen Mary was gone, though, it had been as if Dean’s loving father had disappeared into nothing, and an empty carcass had taken his place.

“I feel like I lost him a long time ago,” Dean had confessed in a whisper against Cas’ neck, Cas’ arm around him, his lips on the prince’s hair. “I’ve been grieving him for a long time.”

“Castiel?” Inias called, and Castiel snapped himself out of the memory he’d been trapped in.

“Yes, let’s go,” he said, and they left the dining hall together.

Castiel was getting worried. Dean hadn’t shown up for breakfast, and Castiel knew it wasn’t because he wasn’t hungry; the man was always hungry.

They entered the throne room—the traditional place to hold trials—together, and it was then that Castiel saw Dean. He was sitting on his father’s throne, looking like he hadn’t slept well, Lord Benjamin at his right side and Lady Charlotte at his left. Lord Robert and Lady Ellen were sitting nearby, looking restless.

“Good day, Prince Dean,” said Gabriel, walking in just behind Castiel. He walked to the area where the nobles where seated and took a chair. He gestured to Raphael. “Raphael, darling, sit with me.”

Raphael obeyed, face flustered as he sat by Gabriel and allowed him to pet his hair lovingly. Castiel chuckled and shook his head. He moved to the wall by the throne and stood there. Lord Benjamin eyed him wearily.

“There’s no need of you here,” he said, coldly. Castiel nodded.

“I’m aware.”

Lord Benjamin raised an eyebrow and shrugged, a gesture that Castiel took to mean something along the lines of ‘suit yourself’.

When the enormous hall was practically full, and the doors had been closed, Dean rose and addressed his people:

“Good people of Winchester,” he said. “As you know, we allowed the Heavenly Empire to enter our city in order to stop the massacre that would have no doubt ensued if we hadn’t done so. One of the conditions the Emperor gave us was that King John was to be trialed and punished for his crimes. Today, on the first day of his trial, a long day awaits us, and I thank you all for your patience and understanding. We will hear all to the witnesses, no matter their birth, in order to produce a fair and just verdict. Now, let’s begin.”

King John was dragged into the room there, and sat on the chair inside a wooden cage in the corner of the room. Castiel wondered how exactly he had missed it when he’d looked around the room. The King looked smaller, and far more tired than Castiel had ever seen him. There was hardly anything left of the large man with the booming voice that had intimidated Dean once upon a time.

“ _That’s_ King John?” he heard Raphael whisper rather loudly.

Gabriel looked at him with fond exasperation.

“A ghost of him, I would think,” he answered, and Castiel was sure that he was the only one that noticed Dean’s flinch.

King John didn’t speak, and didn’t even look at his son when he spoke:

“King John of Winchester, you are here to listen to your people’s cases against you. Is there anything you would like to say?”

King John looked up to the ceiling and spoke directly to the gods:

“I wonder every day why I was cursed with a coward for a son.”

Dean didn’t react, but Castiel could practically feel his pain like a physical ache.

“Very well,” Dean said. “Bring forth the first witness.”

They spent the entire day there.

From that moment until nightfall, people came and spoke of King John’s laws against people who loved people of the same gender, suspected traitors, suspected evildoers and suspected users of magic. They spoke of slaughter and fires, executions and disappearances, all in the dark of night. With every new testimony, Dean shrunk a little further, and Castiel knew that he’d had no idea of how far his father had actually gone in his grieving madness.

Finally, they retreated for the night, and Castiel found himself standing right outside Dean’s rooms. He wanted to go in. He wanted to comfort Dean, and kiss him, and tell him that none of it was his fault. But he knew that Dean wouldn’t accept his comfort.

He was still there when he heard a grave voice speak:

“Draw your sword.”

He looked to his left and saw Lord Benjamin with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Castiel tilted his head to the side.

“Draw your sword, General,” Lord Benjamin repeated.

Castiel stared at him for a few seconds, and then shrugged and unsheathed his blade.

“To the death?” he asked.

“I did tell you I would kill you,” Lord Benjamin answered.

“All right, then,” Castiel said, and took two steps towards the other man before the door to Dean’s rooms opened.

“Enough,” the prince said, eyes weary and voice deep with exhaustion. “Both of you, stop measuring your cocks and let me sleep.”

Castiel put down his sword, but Lord Benjamin hesitated.

“I told him—” he began, but Dean interrupted him:

“I don’t need you to defend my feelings, Benny. I’ll deal with Cas as I see fit, and you will stay out of it.”

Lord Benjamin stared at his friend for a long moment before nodding and walking away, clearly angered.

Castiel turned to Dean to apologize for the ruckus, but the look in the prince’s face made him reconsider.

Dean looked strangely, sweetly, bitter.

“You just can’t leave me alone, can you?” he asked.

Castiel shook his head, and Dean reached out to take his hand and drag him into his rooms. Castiel went willingly, inevitably, and allowed the prince to close the door and then push him against it.

“I’ll deal with my feelings for you, and your feelings for me, whatever those are, at another time. Right now, I just need a distraction,” Dean said, and then looked at Castiel with those greens and asked: “Will you help me?”

And really, how could Castiel ever deny him?

Dean latched onto his neck, kissing and sucking while Cas let his head fall back onto the door. His hands went up to Dean’s hair, and the prince allowed it, sliding down to his knees before Castiel while kissing down his chest as he opened his chemise.

“Dean…” Castiel said when the prince pulled down his pants and freed his very interested cock.

“Yes, Cas?” Dean asked as he gripped Cas’ cock. “Anything you want?”

He started pumping, and Castiel began moaning softly as the pressure on his cock became unbearable. Dean chuckled and licked the tip, and Cas wondered how exactly his once timid lover had turned into this.

With a swift move, Dean swallowed his entire cock and started bobbing his head up and down, clearly for his own pleasure and not Castiel’s, even if Cas found himself whining like he never had before and struggling to stay standing. He could feel his cock hitting the back of Dean’s throat.

“Oh, Dean…” he allowed himself to say when he noticed Dean’s hand moving furiously up and down his own cock. Cas knew what was happening. Dean felt guilty for not knowing what his father had been up to, and he was punishing himself with his own feelings for Castiel. The worst part was that, even though Castiel knew this, he found himself unable to stop him.

When he finally came—embarrassingly fast—down the prince’s throat, he managed to pull him up and hold him against him. Dean gasped, and Castiel felt his hand stop moving, even though he hadn’t come yet. He buried his face beneath Dean’s ear and asked:

“Do you need my help to finish, my love?”

Dean whimpered, and Cas felt him nod.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he took hold of Dean’s cock and started pumping, just soft enough to avoid too much friction with too little lubrication, but enough to make him lose his mind.

“Cas…” Dean was the one moaning this time. “Please…”

Castiel obliged, raising his other hand to tease Dean’s pretty pink nipple through his shirt, and a few moments later he felt the prince come on his hand. Dean whined softly, and his head fell on Cas’ shoulder. Cas held him up and kissed the side of his head, happy to be allowed to have this moment.

It took him a while to realize that Dean was crying, softly, against his neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered when he did, holding Dean tighter against his chest. “Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

Dean sobbed a little harder and clung to Cas, whispering that it was, that he should’ve known, that he’d never expected his father to go so far, that it was his job to protect his people, that Sammy would’ve known, that he was utterly useless, brainless and all the bad words he’d ever thought he might be.

Castiel held him through it and told him otherwise. That he was sweet, a good man, the brightest, wisest, kindest man he’d ever met, that he’d loved his father too much to see, that his people didn’t blame him, that his brother wouldn’t blame him either, that he was intelligent and clever, oh, so clever.

Dean stepped back, tears in his eyes, and shook his head.

“You deceived me, Cas,” he said then, and Castiel flinched. “I wasn’t intelligent enough to see through your lies. I let you trick me into believing that you…”

He trailed off, and Castiel felt his heart follow him.

“You didn’t see through my lies because there were none, Dean,” he answered, looking straight into the prince’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to, but I fell for you. I couldn’t stop myself. You’re so sweet, so kind, so wise beyond your years, and so unbelievably lovely, that I just loved you before I even realized that I had feelings for you.”

Dean stared at him, gaze intense and scalding, for a few seconds before tensing and shaking his head.

“I can’t, Cas,” he said, and he sounded so vulnerable that Castiel wanted to hold him again. He didn’t, though. “I really can’t do this right now.”

“All right,” Castiel conceded. “Another time, then.”

Dean shrugged, and then reconsidered and nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Another time.”

Castiel leaned in and kissed his forehead, and then he turned around and left the chamber. He stayed there for a second, listening to Dean move around and then finally go to sleep, and then he went to his own room.

Balthazar was waiting for him there. Once upon a time, they’d been intimate, but it had been a long time since they’d realized they were better off as friends.

“How was your prince?” Balthazar asked. Castiel shook his head and fell down onto his bed instead.

“Did you look into what I told you?” Castiel asked, and Balthazar nodded.

“Lucifer has been sending messages to Azazel.”

Castiel sighed. Azazel, king of thieves and murderers. So Lucifer _was_ planning on rebelling after all. He’d probably joined Gabriel’s rebellion to get rid of his older brother and was planning on retaking the throne using his family name.

“How should we proceed?” asked Balthazar.

“We need to inform Gabriel and Raphael, and then make sure that Azazel is on our side.”

“Negotiating with killers? I thought you were better than that, Cassie,” Balthazar mocked. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“I want him on our side against Lucifer. The lesser of two evils. I’ll deal with him later.”

Balthazar chuckled.

“Mean,” he said.

Castiel sighed again.

“Get out of my rooms and let me sleep,” he ordered, and basked in delight when he heard Balthazar leave silently. Sometimes, just sometimes, his friend was a fine man.


	6. Five days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm still alive and enjoying SPN season 16!  
> Enjoy this chapter, and please leave a comment

The second day of the trial was no better than the first.

More people came out to accuse the king, and Dean watched every one of them closely, while his father looked away. That was the main difference between them, Castiel thought.

Once again, Gabriel was sitting by Raphael, but this time, Castiel sat on his other side.

“I see you’ve decided to join us, Cassie,” Gabriel commented.

Castiel glared at him from the corner of his eye.

“Stop your flirting for a few moments and listen to me,” he grumbled, and watched Raphael’s embarrassment with mirth.

“Enough, Cassie,” Gabriel warned. “You’ll scare him off.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and leaned into Gabriel to tell him about Lucifer. Gabriel’s smile didn’t falter.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” he whispered when Castiel was done. Castiel shrugged.

“We all wanted the war to be over,” he said.

Gabriel nodded and looked at him, eyes softening for a moment.

“You know what war is over?” he asked. “The one with Winchester.”

Castiel looked at Dean then. He couldn’t help it.

“He hates me,” he whispered, sounding insecure for the first time in a long time. Gabriel saw it for the vulnerable moment that it was and ruffled his hair.

“He doesn’t,” he said. “But he may never forgive you. Are you ready for that?”

Castiel considered it. Of course, he’d known that the possibility was there, but he’d never wanted to think about it properly. He realized that the answer was yes. Yes, he’d probably be able to live if Dean never forgave him. His life may be empty, and he’d always miss him, and he’d never fall in love again, but he’d be able to live.

With that thought in mind, he went to stand by Dean’s side. Dean didn’t even glance at him, but Castiel didn’t mind. He knew that the prince was coming to terms with what his father had done.

The third day of the trial passed swiftly, and Castiel, who hadn’t seen Dean alone the previous day, followed him to his chambers out of pure concern. He saw Dean walk tiredly, shoulders hunched, eyes wandering, and he felt for him. Knowing his prince, he was beating himself up for not knowing his father’s abhorrent behaviors. It must be a terrible thing, Castiel thought, to have to learn to live with the sins of one’s father.

On the fourth day of the trial, Castiel would wish that that had been the extent to which Dean had suffered at his father’s hands.

In the very early morning, after they’d all had their breakfasts, and the last peasant witnesses had been invited to stay for the noble testimonies, Lord Robert of Winchester walked up to the wooden platform that made up the witness stand.

In retrospective, Castiel should’ve known that it would not end well. He should’ve known, the second he saw Lord Robert’s stern expression, that what he was about to hear would be terrible.

“State your case,” Dean said, as it was costume. Castiel saw him tense, and a small feeling of dread began to form in his stomach.

“My name, as most people know, is Robert, Lord Counsel of Winchester. As a member of King John’s Council, I am guilty of allowing many of his crimes to happen.”

To this, King John snorted. They all ignored him.

“All of the testimonies we have witnessed in the past three days are true,” Lord Robert said, and there were audible gasps coming from the audience. It was unheard of; a noble confirming peasants’ testimonies so openly and clearly.

“But King John’s crimes don’t end here,” Lord Robert said. “After Queen Mary’s death, he lost his mind. We all saw it, yet we did nothing about it. He drove Prince Samuel into near insanity, with the results that we all know,” Dean looked at Castiel, as if making sure that he wouldn’t say anything about his brother, and Castiel nodded silently. At least in this, he could reassure him.

“King John then had a love affair with a woman, and had a child with her,” Lord Robert continued, and Dean tensed. Castiel tilted his head to the side. He hadn’t heard anything about this child.

“The child, named Adam, was abandoned and neglected by the king from the moment of his birth until his death, and his mother’s, at the hands of the King’s enemies," Lord Robert explained. More gasps from the crowd. “But the crime here is that these enemies warned the King of what they were going to do. They sent a missive threatening him, and the King took no action. He allowed his former lover and son to die without as much as a warning, and he didn’t let anyone know until years after the fact.”

Now, there were no more gasps.

Utter silence reigned in the room, and Dean was looking down for the first time since the trial had begun. Lord Robert allowed the silence to spread, clearly understanding that the longer he took to start speaking again, the more the King’s actions would sink in the crowd’s mind. And he wanted them so sink in, Castiel understood, because what was to follow was even worse that what had been said.

“But the King’s greatest crimes,” Lord Robert continued after drinking from a bottle a boy handed him, “are against his oldest son, Prince Dean.”

Now, Dean looked up, bracing himself. He knew what was coming. Lord Robert had probably warned him about everything that he was going to say.

“Most of these crimes occurred behind closed doors, and only the princes and the King could ever attest to them, but we were all witness to the King’s mistreatment of D—Prince Dean.”

Lord Robert stopped, and stared at Dean. He didn’t speak again until after Dean nodded.

“There were many times, when he was a child, that Prince Dean showed bruises and injuries far worse than what one would expect from a child his age. I have no proof of this, but—”

“Lies!” King John screamed then. They all looked at him. He was even dirtier now, anger seeping off of him like grease, eyes on fire. Dean made a small gesture with his hand, and a man entered the cage and promptly gagged the King.

“Go on,” Dean said, and Lord Robert nodded.

“I could tell you of many small moments, little behaviors that speak of a man who doesn’t love his son properly, but what occurred a couple of months ago sums up King John’s treatment of his son perfectly,” Lord Robert took a deep breath before carrying on: “Some time ago, the King discovered that Prince Dean had laid with a man.”

Oh, no.

Castiel felt the dread climb up his throat and settle on the back of his mouth, cold and bitter. He wanted to cover his ears and hum loudly, but he forced himself to listen.

The crowd reacted with some shocked gasps. Dean gave them a cursory look.

“The King did not take this well,” Lord Robert said. “As we all know, he outlawed such relationships, and punished offenses with large fines and imprisonment. However, when it came to the Prince, he saw it as a personal failure, and decided to punish him more harshly. So he brought Alastair to Court.”

More gasps, and some curses and screams. The people from the Heavenly Empire were baffled. They’d never heard that name before. Lord Robert must have realized this, for he said:

“For the benefit of our guests, I’ll explain who this man is. Sir Alastair was the former king’s torturer, a long time ago. He was known for being a cruel man, who enjoyed the pain of others, and for raping many of his victims. In all of his years as torturer, and he began when he was sixteen, no one has survived more than two days under his knife. No one, but one man. When King John and Queen Mary succeeded in the throne, Queen Mary vanished him. However, King John called him back, like I’ve said, and gave Dean to him with only two conditions; one, he couldn’t rape him, and two, he couldn’t do any permanent damage.”

In the silence between that sentence and the next, an eternity passed for Castiel. It was like his world was crumbling around him.

“Oh, Gods,” he whispered, and almost fell to his knees. But he had to listen to the end of this.

“The prince was locked in with Alastair for five days,” Lord Robert continued. “When he came out…”

He trailed off, but it didn’t matter, because the crowd was done listening. When they heard what had been done to their savior, they began asking for the King’s head.

In the middle of the screaming, no one noticed Castiel leaving the throne room.

Outside, on the hallway, he fell to his knees and dry heaved a couple of times, the thought of Dean being tortured because of his relationship to him unbearable to both his body and his mind. If there had been any doubt of exactly what Dean meant to him, it was gone now. Castiel knew that if King John’s sentence wasn’t death, he would find the bastard and slaughter him himself.

He sat there for a few minutes, trying to gather himself, and then he got up and walked back into the throne room.

Lord Robert had left the witness stand, and the people were quiet again. Dean stood before the throne, looking at his people silently. Castiel closed the door behind him and went to stand by the wall.

“My father’s crimes are many,” Dean said then. “The ones he committed against me strike you as unnatural, because I am his son, but they are not worse than most of the things we’ve heard in the past three days. Don’t pay them especial attention. Judge him for all of them equally. I am no more than the rest of the people he’s hurt.”

Another difference between Dean and his father, Castiel thought. Now that he was aware of it, he did notice some difference between Dean’s earlier bearing and the way he stood now. Perhaps, if he was ever allowed to see the Prince’s body again, he would notice the scars left by the monster. Castiel wanted to kiss them all and weep, begging Dean for forgiveness for an entire different reason that the one he’d needed to be forgiven for before.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like, for Dean, to live through the last few months. He’d been abandoned—and later betrayed—by his lover, and then tortured by his own father. He’d lived through a war, and he’d been forced to rebel against said father to protect his people.

And still, there he stood, in front of his people, whole and brave, and Castiel loved him so much that it hurt. Gods, he’d been such a fool.

Dean declared the time for the trial done for the day, and they all went to lunch. Castiel sat beside Gabriel and watched him the entire time.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Gabriel said, after feeding Raphael a grape and laughing at the man’s obedience and later embarrassment.

Castiel didn’t answer, but his frown was probably answer enough. Gabriel clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“You didn’t make the prince like men, Cassie. It would’ve been someone else, if it hadn’t been you,” he said.

“Maybe,” Castiel said, mainly to get the emperor off his ass.

Gabriel shook his head again and gave up, going back to mocking Raphael and giving him little kisses on the corner of his mouth.

After lunch, Castiel wanted nothing more than to go to Dean. But he knew that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea; maybe Dean didn’t want his company.

So when he went to the stables, he could say honestly that he wasn’t expecting to find the prince there. Yes, he knew that the prince loved his horse, and yes, he knew that he often went to see Impala when he was upset, but that didn’t prove anything, did it?

Still, he couldn’t help the longing in his voice when he said:

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped, and looked at him, his expression open for a second before he closed it off again.

“Cas…tiel,” he answered. Castiel didn’t like that.

“You can call me Cas, if you want,” he said.

Dean shook his head.

“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,” he answered, and Castiel had to shrug even if it stung. “What are you doing here?”

Castiel looked around.

“In truth, I don’t know,” he answered. “I told myself that I wanted to go for a ride, but…”

“But, what?”

“I knew that the chances of finding you here were high.”

Dean nodded and looked away, jaw set.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said.

“I told you not to—”

“Not for that,” he clarified. “I’m sorry that our relationship led to you being hurt.”

Dean’s eyes found his, and they were troubled for a moment, and then he looked away. Castiel took a few steps in his direction, and Dean stepped away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the prince said. “It was a matter of time.”

Castiel nodded, and stepped back again.

“Still, I—,” he began.

“Please,” Dean said, looking at him earnestly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right,” Castiel nodded. “Would you like me to leave you alone?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

Dean nodded again.

Castiel thought how weird it was that Dean had needed comfort when facing his father’s sins against others, but he didn’t allow himself any when facing his sins against him.


	7. Haunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 7!  
> Enjoy and please leave a comment!

Lady Ellen testified on the fifth day of the trial.

She spoke of a corrupt, drunk king, who mistreated both his children and his subjects, and every time she stopped for breath the people clapped. It was clear that they had already decided the King’s fate. They wanted him dead.

When she stepped off the witness stand, her daughter stepped up, and added more crimes.

Then went Lord Benjamin, and Lady Charlotte, who spoke once more of the King’s mistreatment of Dean.

They finished when it was already dark outside, and Castiel decided to have dinner quickly and go to the house where Dean had taken him several times. He’d done it once before, just before they invaded the city, but he hadn’t been back since.

He ate cold meat and drank some beer, so it was safe to assume that he was a bit tipsy when he entered the farmhouse. He went up the stairs and laid on the same place where he’d slept with Dean. As he remembered the prince as he had been then, he felt the urge to cry and mourn him, even though he was still alive. The prince’s innocence was gone, and Castiel, alongside King John, had been the one to kill it.

He felt asleep with tears in his eyes.

“General Novak,” a gruff voice said. “Castiel.”

He was kicked on the side, and he grunted and moaned.

“Get up,” the voice said. “Your emperor is looking for you.”

Castiel said something along the lines of “he can go fuck himself”, and the voice chuckled.

“Get up, you pathetic, miserable bastard.”

Castiel opened his eyes and looked up, raising his hand to protect them from the sun, and found Lord Benjamin staring down at him.

“Good morning,” he said, smirking. “Looks like our honored General had too much to drink.”

“Quiet,” Castiel ordered. “Leave me alone,” and then, frowning: “How did you find me?”

Lord Benjamin snorted and shook his head.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, a sorry bastard.”

Castiel sat up and stared at him questioningly.

“What do you mean?”

“You really love him, don’t you?” Lord Benjamin asked. “Dean, I mean. You actually fell in love with him.”

Castiel nodded, because it was pointless to do otherwise, and Lord Benjamin shook his head once more.

“Like I said, a sorry bastard,” he repeated. “Once I realized that, there was only one place where you would go that no one else would be able to find you.”

Castiel sighed. Was he truly that transparent?

“Get up,” Lord Benjamin said. “That weird emperor is looking for you.”

Castiel waved him off. Gabriel could probably wait.

Unless it was about Lucifer.

His eyes widened and he got up immediately. Luckily, his clothes weren’t as dirty as one would think, so he walked back to the castle—followed by Lord Benjamin—and went directly to Gabriel’s room.

He wasn’t surprised to find Raphael already there.

“You look…” Gabriel began.

“Like you’ve slept in a stable,” Raphael finished, and Gabriel chuckled. Castiel groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Was there any reason why you wanted to see me or did you just wish to mock me?” he asked.

“Azazel is coming,” Raphael said. Castiel tensed and looked at him, his warrior side taking over.

“Well, he’s coming to the capital of the Empire,” Gabriel corrected. “Raphael and I will be going back there. For the next four days or so, I’ll be terribly ill and unable to leave my rooms. You’ll stay here and make sure that everyone knows that. Also, make sure John of Winchester gets what he fucking deserves.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t question this plan. Raphael was very capable, and he and Gabriel would be able to dispose of Azazel if Castiel managed to keep Lucifer entertained in Winchester. However, since Dean was involved, he hesitated.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, and both Castiel and Raphael stared at him. He chuckled. “Yes, I’m leaving you and not another one of my generals here so that you can make amends with the prince. You need it. If you don’t do it, it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life, and a haunted man makes a poor General.”

Castiel gaped at him.

“I know you’re hangover, but you’ve never been slow, Cassie,” Gabriel said. “You love him, and you hurt him terribly. I asked you to spy, not to fuck him, so you only have yourself to blame for his heartache. Unless you manage to obtain his forgiveness, you won’t be able to live this down.”

Castiel frowned.

“So I’m not allowed to come back home unless he forgives me?” he asked.

Gabriel chuckled.

“You’re allowed to come back to the Empire whenever you wish. Whether it is your home or not is something you must decide on your own.”

Castiel stared at his friend and shook his head. It was too soon, and his head ached too much to deal with this now.

“Alright, I’ll stay,” Castiel said instead. “And I’ll keep Lucifer here for as long as possible.”

Gabriel smiled knowingly, but let it go.

“We just need him here until we catch Azazel and get him to speak of his deal. Then, even his most loyal supporters will have to condemn him,” he said.

Normally, one wouldn’t trust the word of a known criminal and killer, but Azazel had a reputation for always speaking the truth. He didn’t need to lie to destroy a person, they said.

“Fine,” Castiel answered.

“I’ll leave Inias with you,” Gabriel said.

“Why, thank you,” Castiel said, as if Inias wouldn’t have had to be dragged away kicking and screaming.

“Good luck,” Gabriel said, waving him off just as a maid with a breakfast tray entered the rooms. Castiel left, but he still heard his emperor inviting Raphael to stay for breakfast. He smirked.

More nobles that Castiel had never met testified on the sixth day of the trial, and he sat in Gabriel’s chair purposefully, so he wasn’t surprised when Lucifer appeared at his side.

“Where’s our dear emperor?” he asked.

Castiel allowed a fake knowing smirk to grace his face.

“Indisposed,” he answered, raising his eyebrows twice. “He and Raphael both.”

Lucifer stared at him for a couple of seconds and then smiled.

“Finally,” he commented, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“At least they’ve gotten away from this torture,” Castiel said.

Lucifer chuckled.

“Yes,” he said. “It is rather boring.”

That was not what Castiel had meant, but he let it slide and stared at Dean instead. The prince looked well enough, if a bit tired. When he looked back at Castiel, he looked away.

The crowd was a bit more calm. A large, hooded figure stood out at the back of the room, but since it didn’t move throughout the entire day, Castiel decided it wasn’t threatening.

At the end of the day, as he sat, dining alone, he was surprised to see Lady Joanna approaching him.

“So,” she said. “You’re Cas.”

Castiel almost flinched. That name sounded wrong, coming from lips other than Dean’s. Still, he nodded and kept eating.

“I’m surprised to see you alive and well,” she continued, almost absentmindedly. “Benny wanted you dead.”

Castiel looked at her, but didn’t answer. She smiled.

“Not very talkative, are you?” she asked. He shook his head, and then realized that he’d never said a word to her.

“Not usually, no,” he said out loud.

She nodded.

“Dean used to talk too much,” she said. “Whenever he was nervous, or trying to distract his father from Sam, he would ramble on about anything he could think of.”

She paused, contemplating her next words.

“Not anymore,” she added then. “He became a bit more quiet after you left, and then stopped speaking almost entirely after Alastair was here.”

This time, Castiel did flinch. Lady Joanna noticed, but she didn’t say anything. Realizing that this was a golden opportunity, Castiel asked:

“Where is Alastair now?”

Lady Joanna frowned.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked.

Castiel locked eyes with her. His deadly intent was probably apparent in his gaze, and she smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I see,” she said then. “I understand the feeling.”

Castiel didn’t think that she did, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and waited for his answer. Lady Joanna sighed.

“The king sent him back to his exile when he was done with Dean,” she answered. “But he shouldn’t be hard to locate; he’s lived on the same place since the first time the Queen kicked him out.”

“Won’t he move when he hears that Dean has taken the throne?” Castiel asked, because anyone with half a brain would.

“He’s too cocky to do that,” Lady Joana said. “He views Dean as weak, and he thinks that he won’t go after him.”

Castiel pondered that for a second. Would Dean chase his torturer? No, he realized. Not unless Alastair poised a threat to others. Because Dean hardly ever did something for himself, and the last time that he did, Castiel had abandoned and betrayed him.

“We’ll have to do something about that, then, won’t we?” he asked, and Lady Joanna smirked and nodded.

“Benny was right,” she commented enigmatically before getting up and walking away.

Finally, two days later, it was almost the end of the trial. This was the honorary day left for members of the royal family to testify, and since Dean was presiding the trial, he couldn’t do so, so Castiel expected a tranquil day.

He’d told Lucifer, and the entire Court, that Gabriel and Raphael had gotten ill together—since they’d been fucking, but that was implied—and were resting before the day of the verdict.

So Castiel walked into the throne room and sat down in Gabriel’s chair. When Dean walked in, he looked so handsome that Castiel had the sudden urge to knock his head against the wall. He was wearing black pants and a white chemise, covered by a dark green vest, and his sword hanging from his hip.

He hadn’t really seen Dean in the last couple of days, since he’d been busy keeping Lucifer from suspecting anything about Gabriel and Raphael’s absence, but every time he did, it was like coming up for air after a long time underwater.

Dean stood before his throne and raised his hands, and everyone in the room fell quiet.

“In the last day of King John of Winchester’s trial, I am compelled to ask whether someone of his blood, the royal blood, wishes to testify to his crimes and vile actions.”

Silence.

Dean looked around the room, eyes bored, because they all knew that no one would answer. Still, tradition had him asking:

“No one wishes to come forth?”

Silence.

And then, from the back of the room:

“I do.”

Castiel looked in the direction from which the voice was coming from, and he saw the hooded figure he’d noticed a few days before. They walked forward and to the center of the room. Castiel looked back at Dean, but before the prince could say anything, the hooded figure raised their hands and pulled down their hood, revealing a young man with brown hair down to his shoulders, hard eyes and a firm mouth. Before anyone spoke, Castiel already knew who he was looking at.

Dean’s face crumbled, and a thousand emotions passed through his eyes, and he smiled, and he asked, voice soft and shy like it’d never been before:

“Sammy?”

Samuel, second prince of Winchester, smiled at his big brother.

“Hey, Dean. I’ve missed you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yes, Sammy has arrived!


	8. Never you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back!  
> I had finals, so it's taken me some time to update, but I'm here now!  
> Enjoy, and leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for sexual content

Sam’s testimony took the rest of the day.

The youngest prince of Winchester had very few good things to say about his father. King John stared at him in anger the entire time, but Sam never once looked at him, staring at his brother instead.

“The truth is,” he said, towards the end, “that my brother raised me. When my mother died, my father lost whatever humanity he’d possessed, and he became the soulless tyrant we’ve all been hearing about. His crimes against his people are many, but I’m not here to speak of those. They have already been relayed to us by the people who suffered from them, and they’ve been confirmed by many nobles. Still, I testify to them as well.”

Utter silence as the prince’s words sank in, and then he spoke again:

“From what I remember of my childhood, Dean protected me from my father. He took the brunt of his anger every time, even when I was the one who’d made a mistake, and he dealt with my father’s abuse from a young age. The king hit him a lot, casually, and he forced Dean to train endlessly, constantly, as if he were nothing but a weapon, even when my brother was ill. There were a couple of times when I feared for his life. When I became an adult, I fell in love with a woman, and my father didn’t approve of this, for she was not a noble. Still, I loved her. I married her, in secret, with only Dean and a few friends to witness it. When my father found out, he was very angry. Dean stood up for me, as he’s always done, and my father got even angrier and ordered his people to kill my wife.”

Gasps from the crowd, and a clenching fist from Dean. He was clearly still upset over this, Castiel thought, but it was to be expected.

“We ran,” Sam continued, voice even and cold, as if the things he was describing weren’t horrifying. “Dean helped us. We ran to the forest and lived there, and we became outlaws. Jess and I are part of the Hendrik band, and Victor has been our friend for quite some time now. We don’t harm people. We steal from the king and make our living, and now that Dean is king, I hope that he’ll forgive my past crimes and allow us to come home.”

More silence.

Dean stared at his little brother. King John screamed through his gag. Dean smiled.

“Of course,” he said, like it was obvious, and really, how could Sam have ever doubted that Dean would welcome him back.

Judging from the way Sam smiled, he hadn’t.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, and then he looked around the room, at his people. It was night outside.

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow to pass sentence on the king. With enough luck, the Emperor will be here to witness it and give us his approval,” with that, he looked at Castiel, who smiled but didn’t answer, perfectly aware of the fact that Gabriel would not be returning to Winchester.

As they left the throne room, Castiel saw Dean leap to his brother and hug him. Sam hugged back, laughing like a madman. Dean clapped his shoulder several times when they parted, smiling up at his little brother and joking:

“Were the theatrics necessary?”

Sam shrugged and grinned at his brother.

“Whatever do you mean, Dean?” he teased, innocently. “Everything I know, I learnt from you.”

Dean shook his head and threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders, leading him away from Castiel and into what he assumed where the prince’s former rooms. As happy as he was to see the younger man reunite with Dean, Castiel couldn’t help but be concerned. He knew how protective Dean was, and how he masked his true feelings when it came to Sam, and he feared for the following day, when he’d have to sentence his father personally.

Later that night, after stealing some food from the kitchens, Castiel ran into Prince Samuel. The man was in the library, and they met when Castiel went in, looking for something to entertain himself with. The prince didn’t seem to recognize him at first, simply giving him a nod, and Castiel felt relieved. That is, until the prince spoke:

“So, you’re Castiel Novak."

Castiel stiffened, and braced himself for what was to come. He sighed. He nodded. Prince Samuel put his book down and stared at him.

“My brother can take care of himself,” he said then. Castiel frowned. This was not the talk he’d expected. “He can defeat and kill anyone with a large amount of different weapons, or even without one. He’s the strongest man I’ve ever known, and I’ve known many.”

There was a silence, and Castiel nodded. He knew all of that. Prince Samuel seemed content with that, and kept speaking:

“The one thing my brother has never been fully able of guarding, no matter how hard he’s tried, is his heart,” another small silence, and then: “It’s hard to make your way there, that’s true, but once you do, and he cares for you, he will never stop. I’ve known unconditional love from birth, even without a mother and with the father I was cursed with, because of Dean. He loves me,” the prince looked at Castiel, “and he loves you. He would forgive me anything, and he will forgive your betrayal, eventually, not because you’ve done anything to deserve that, but because of who he is. Do not waste it, because while he would show you mercy a second time, and a third, I won’t, and like I said, there is nothing I could do that he wouldn’t eventually forgive.”

With that, the prince picked up his book and went back to reading, as if he hadn’t just delivered the most terrifying threat Castiel had ever heard. He’d thought Samuel unaware of his brother’s nature, and he’d been wrong. His protectiveness wasn’t as loud as Dean’s, but it was just as deadly. While Castiel’s love would scream and rage and wage war if the people he loved were hurt, Samuel would simply get revenge, not saying a word, but being just as effective.

Castiel wasn’t intending on letting him make good on his threat. If Dean ever forgave him, he thought, he would dedicate the rest of his life to earning that forgiveness. He didn’t say that to Samuel though, because he knew instinctively that he would trust actions before words. He simply nodded and left the library, having completely forgotten his previous intention.

He found himself near the stables again, not hoping to see Dean—even though a small part of him always was—, but rather to find the peace he’d once felt near the animals. He hadn’t expected to hear grunts and moans and the sounds of two people who were clearly busy. He was about to turn around when he heard a worrying sound. It wasn’t exactly unwilling, but rather distressed, and he hesitated. What if there was someone who needed help?

“Are you sure, my prince?” he heart a male voice ask then, and he froze. It couldn’t be.

“Yes, I am. And I told you to call me Dean,” the voice he loved answered. Castiel closed his eyes, feeling a sharp stab of pain in his chest. He deserved it, he thought. Why had he imagined that Dean wouldn’t sleep with any other men? The prince didn’t owe him anything, and he never would. He would never hold it against him, that he’d found some amount of happiness and continued to discover his attraction to men with other people. It still hurt, though.

He turned to leave once more, knowing that intruding on that moment or listening in was out of the question, when the man who was with Dean spoke again:

“It’ll hurt if we do it like this, Dean.”

Fuck. ‘None of my business’, Cas thought. ‘I should go’.

“I know,” Dean answered. “I like it like that.”

‘No, he doesn’t’, Cas thought. ‘He likes it slow and sweet and gentle because no one has ever treated him with the kindness he deserves’.

But it wasn’t his place to intervene, or to stay there, even though he knew Dean was punishing himself for what he had to do to his father the following day with pain, and that he would regret it, and that knowledge hurt him in the deepest parts of his soul.

‘Walk away,’ he thought. ‘Walk the fuck away and leave Dean alone to deal with his feelings however he sees fit.’

“At least let me use some oil…” the man who was with Dean insisted.

Castiel saw red.

“Prince Dean,” he said as he came forward, acting as if he had no idea of what was happening and had just been looking for Dean. The prince was propped up against the wall, naked from the waist down, a man Castiel had never seen before standing in front of him, still clothed but clearly aroused. Castiel ignored him and looked only at Dean, cursing himself for interrupting like this.

“General,” Dean said, not looking disturbed in the least. “Were you looking for me?”

Castiel nodded. Dean waved the man who was with him away, and he disappeared quickly, looking rather relieved to be spared from the tense staring contest between Dean and Cas. The prince, not seeming to be bothered by his nudity at all, stared at Castiel, clearly waiting for him to state his business.

“No lubricant, Dean? Really?” Castiel asked. Dean chuckled bitterly, and Cas wondered if he’d been drinking.

“I’m the one getting fucked, Cas, I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” Dean spit out, reaching down to pull up his pants from where they had pooled on the floor.

And it wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Castiel closed his eyes and bared his heart.

“The idea of seeing you in pain breaks my heart,” he said.

“No one asked you to look.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I just couldn’t stop myself. I know that that’s no excuse, but—,” he cut himself off, and began again: “Just… please, Dean, don’t hurt yourself like this.”

Dean stared at him for a few seconds, and Castiel truly had no idea of what he was thinking.

“And what is it to you, if I want a hard fuck?” the prince asked then, surprising Castiel. He looked away.

“I…”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? You have no right—”

“No, I don’t,” Castiel said. “I don’t, and I never have, and I never will, even if we were still…” he stopped himself, unsure of how to continue. “I know I have no right, but I still beg you to please, please care for yourself, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it, because you do, you always do.”

Dean kept staring at him, and Castiel had the sudden urge to squirm and run away from his gaze. Still, he stayed until he saw something shine in the prince’s eyes.

“Would you oblige, if I asked?” he said. Castiel tilted his head to the side inquisitively, and the prince added: “If I asked you to fuck me now, I mean. You never did before. I wonder why.”

Castiel sighed.

“I… I didn’t want to do it while lying to your face,” he admitted. “It felt wrong."

Dean laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. It chipped away at Castiel’s heart.

“So everything was well, all the lying and deceiving, as long as your cock wasn’t up my ass? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not—”

“Because it isn’t. It doesn’t make anything better, Cas. I still fell in love with you, and you still hurt me, and I still wish I could hate you every single day and every single night when I go to bed and wish to find you there with me.”

Silence. What could Castiel say?

“I’m sorry,” is what he settled on. Dean chuckled again.

“Sorry is not enough,” he answered, and he covered his face with his hand, and Castiel thought that he might be crying. He had to stop it.

“I’ll do it.”

Dean moved his hand and looked him in the eye.

“What?”

“I’ll give you a hard fuck,” Castiel clarified. “If you want.”

Dean stared. He seemed to ponder it for a few moments, and then he nodded abruptly.

“But,” Castiel added. “I won’t do it here, or without oil.”

Another nod.

They went to Castiel’s room, and the prince fell on Castiel’s bed almost silently. It felt like a dream, like a pause in between seconds that Castiel was undeserving of. Their conversation was far from over, yet he’d been granted this reprieve. He used a piece of fabric to blindfold Dean. This was necessary if his plan was to succeed.

He retrieved a vial of oil from his wardrobe and he knelt on the bed, between Dean’s legs. He bent down and put his mouth on the prince’s cock, all while taking his fingers to his own backside and beginning to stretch himself.

“How…” Dean began, and then gasped when Cas’ tongue swirled around the head of his cock. “How is this a hard fuck, Cas?”

Cas raised his head for a moment.

“You’ll see,” he said, and then went back to sucking.

When he was stretched enough, he took the hand where the oil was to Dean’s cock and pumped it a couple of times. Then, he moved until his hips were over Dean’s, gripped his cock and lined it up with his hole. Just when Dean was taking off the blindfold, frowning, clearly confused, he sat down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Dean exclaimed, but it didn’t cover up Cas’ own moan.

Oh, Gods, he hadn’t expected _this_. He felt so fucking vulnerable, even though he was the one in control, sitting on Dean’s cock, his hands on the prince’s chest, their eyes truly meeting for what seemed to be the first time in centuries.

“Cas…” Dean began, but Cas bent down and kissed him, moaning when the movement made the prince’s cock harden further inside him. Dean allowed the kiss, moving his lips slowly against Castiel’s, one hand flying up to the back of Cas’ neck while the other found his hip. The prince didn’t taste or smell like alcohol, which was good.

Cas moved back up, and the prince’s hand slipped from his neck to his chest and down to his other hip. Even though he wanted to go slow, he’d promised the prince a hard fuck, so, after moving up and down a few times to test his pain level, he began riding Dean in earnest.

“Oh, Cas…” the prince moaned, as his cock was squeezed every time Cas moved. He didn’t thrust up, though, allowing Castiel to have complete control over what was happening.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas smiled, almost forgetting what had happened between them as he teased his love, moving his hips in circles. Dean’s eyes widened and he moaned louder, disbelievingly, like he couldn’t process what was happening. 

Still, Castiel didn’t stop moving furiously up and down until Dean came inside him with a whimper, and then fell limp. Cas, still hard and aching, moved away from his prince and let his cock fall out of him. When Dean opened his eyes again, Cas made sure he caught them before saying:

“If you want to hurt someone, hurt me, the gods know I deserve it, but not you. Never you. Do you understand?”

Dean stared at him, wide-eyed and baffled, before nodding and whispering:

“I understand.”


	9. The day they’d all been waiting for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so some plot happens.  
> I think most of us will enjoy this part ; )  
> Please leave a comment

The morning of the sentencing day was upon them, and Castiel hadn’t slept at all. His ass was sore, and it gave him a strange sort of comfort, the certainty of what had happened the night before, that he’d had Dean once more, but it hadn’t been enough to get him to sleep.

His heart was in disarray. He feared what sentencing his father would do to Dean, and what would happen to the two of them, and what Lucifer would do when he realized that Gabriel and Raphael weren’t going to be at the trial, that they’d left, and whether he would put together the clues and realize that they were onto him. Most of all, he feared what Lucifer would do when he did.

He got up from his bed when the sun came up, unable to pretend to be sleeping any longer, heart almost beating out of his chest, and he got dressed. The night before, Dean had left his room without a word, still almost naked, a pensive look in his eyes, and Castiel had thought that maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to understand.

He wore his ceremonial armor, which was basically his regular armor but with some blue and gold decorations, and the short sword with the golden edges that Gabriel had given him when he’d asked him to become his general. He walked out of his room looking regal and feeling like shit, and he was happy to bump into Inias in the hallway.

“Good morning,” his friend said. Castiel forced a smirk on his lips.

“You’re too merry for a man who hasn’t had breakfast,” he said, and Inias chuckled.

“That depends on your definition of breakfast, my friend,” he said, licking his lips, and Castiel laughed at him. He wondered what lucky woman had woken up with Inias’ face in between her legs.

Castiel shook his head and dragged his friend to the dining room, feeling a little lighter than he had just minutes earlier. That was the effect Inias usually had on him.

As had become usual, Dean wasn’t at the breakfast table. Prince Samuel, however, was, and he leveled an uninterested grace at Castiel before looking back down at his breakfast. There was a blond woman beside him, and he smiled at her, and Castiel knew that smile. It was the smile Dean had given him from time to time, when Castiel had said something Dean loved, or when he’d done something stupid, and Castiel had figured out it was the “I love you” Winchester royal look. That mean that the blond woman must be Jessica, Samuel’s wife.

“Hey, General,” Balthazar called from behind him, and Castiel hadn’t seen him arrive but didn’t react to his presence. Balthazar gave him a note, and Castiel opened and read it.

The throne room was almost full when Castiel walked in. It was, however, eerily silent. The people of Winchester had come to see their king fall, and they were given their princes’ grief the silent reverence it deserved. Dean was sitting on the throne, looking down, face inscrutable and shoulders down, his brother standing right beside him, his wife by his side. Lord Benjamin, Lord Robert, Lady Ellen, Lady Charlotte, Lady Joanna and all the other Winchester nobles were seated the closest to them. When Castiel and Inias sat down, near Lucifer but not by his side, Dean’s head rose and his eyes immediately found Castiel’s.

“Will the Emperor be gracing us with his presence?” he asked, loud enough for them all to hear. Castiel shook his head. He saw Lucifer tense out of the corner of his eye.

“Why not?” the general asked, and Castiel was so tired of the charade, and the note he’d received at breakfast had been from Raphael, and it’d said that they’d ended Lucifer’s insurrection before it had even started, so he looked at Lucifer and said:

“He’s back at the capital, squashing your pathetic attempt at a rebellion, of course.”

Lucifer frowned, and got up, but Balthazar was there, knife in hand, smile on his face that said ‘watch what you’re doing before I stab you’, and Lucifer sat back down.

“You’re under arrest,” Balthazar chuckled, before dragging Lucifer out of the room and probably to Winchester’s dungeons.

Castiel got up and bowed toward Dean’s throne.

“I apologize for the timing, but I’m afraid that the Heavenly Empire’s ranks were in need of some cleaning,” he said.

Dean tilted his head to the side and sighed, and his brother was looking at Castiel, clearly interested and partly amused by what was happening.

“If you’re done with that, I would like to proceed with my father’s trial,” Dean said, tone cold but clearly tired, and Castiel wondered whether he’d had more luck sleeping than him.

“We are,” Castiel assured him, and then sat back down.

Dean waited for a moment, maybe to see if anyone else was going to be arrested, and then gave a vague hand gesture to the guard who’d been waiting at the door. The man nodded and opened the doors, and King John was dragged in, kicking—but not screaming, since he’d been gagged—and generally being a nuisance. He was brought before his son and forced to his knees, and from there Castiel could imagine the glare he was leveling at Dean.

“King John of Winchester,” Dean began, looking straight at his father, no flinch or hesitation on his face. “Of the crimes you have been accused of, which have been named and proven over the last few sessions, you have been found guilty. The traditional punishment for them, under _your_ rule, would be torture and death. Since I’ll be king after your death, and I have decided to be different from you, you won’t be tortured. However, the law of Winchester and the wishes of the people, who have been consulted through the usual means, say that you must and will be put to death. Now, you will be allowed to speak your last public words.”

The guard removed the king’s gag, and the room went even quieter than it had been while King John stretched his jaw and got up. He looked up at his sons and spit at them. Prince Samuel didn’t react, but his wife put a hand on his shoulder. Dean tensed, but his face didn’t show any signs of what he was feeling.

“Your mother would be disgusted with you,” King John said, and Castiel had the sudden urge to execute him personally. “You, Sam, married to a commoner _whore_ , a bandit for years—”

“Speak of my wife again and you won’t have to wait until dawn to be killed,” Samuel interrupted, his voice low and deadly, and King John seemed to hesitate, staring at the son he no longer knew. Since he was so clearly not going to be affected by him, he turned to his other son.

“And you, you fucking pillow biter, cowardly, traitorous, son of a bitch, your mother is rolling in her grave right now. She would hate you if she met you, you—”

“I disagree,” Dean interrupted, coldly, unfeelingly, and Castiel has never been more proud. “Do you have any last words which are not insults, or can we send you back to your cell now?”

King John seemed flabbergasted. He didn’t speak for some time, and Dean clearly took it as a yes, for he nodded towards his father’s guards, and the former king was gagged and dragged away once more. Dean sighed and took a moment to compose himself before looking around the room.

“Does anyone wish to say anything further?” he asked, and then, when the silence stretched for more than a minute, looking at Castiel: “Is this sentence satisfactory?”

Castiel nodded. Dean’s eyes lingered on him for a few moments, and then he looked away.

“Very well, then. This trial is finished,” he said then, and he left the room, followed by his brother and sister in law.

Lord Robert got up from his seat and turned toward the people.

“You are all free to go,” he said, and then left to follow Dean.

Castiel wanted to do the same. He wanted to go to Dean and hold him like he knew the prince liked to be held, and kiss that sweet place in his temple, and stroke his hair, and love him, but he couldn’t, and he had no one to blame but himself. He knew he had to talk to Dean. He knew the prince was owed at least an apology, but he also knew that now was not the time. Now, when he had just sentenced his father to death, the last thing he needed was Castiel’s sad attempt at an apology.

So he went back to his rooms and forced himself to sit on his bed and not get up and look for Dean. He wrote a letter to Gabriel, telling him of Lucifer’s imprisonment and King John’s sentence, and then added another page discussing his feelings for Dean, and then burned it. He was a mess, wasn’t he?

Later that day, there was a knock on his door, and he was only moderately surprised to find Lady Joanna there, looking serious and grave.

“General,” she said as a greeting. Castiel nodded at her and gestured for her to come in. She did, and sat down in one of the chairs he’d placed before the fire. He sat down opposite her, and it occurred to him that maybe he should’ve offered her a drink.

Lady Joanna, it seemed, wasn’t one for pleasantries.

“Do you remember our last conversation?” she asked, looking at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, about Alastair,” he answered, feeling even more somber than he had mere minutes ago. Anger surged through him like a wave, and he had to take a deep breath.

“I inquired about him,” Lady Joanna continued. “I sent someone to his house, to find him. It would appear that news of the King’s trial reached him first, and he’s vanished.”

Well, those weren’t good news.

“Do you think he will come for Dean?” he asked then. She looked pensive and worried, and she nodded weakly.

“I think either he’s going to disappear before Dean can get him, or he’ll come and finish what he started.”

“Killing the new king will only lead to his death,” Castiel reasoned.

“Alastair is insane, General,” Lady Joanna explained. “He believes Dean’s life belongs to him, for some twisted reason, and I don’t think he’ll act with his survival in mind.”

“I see. Very well, you should alert the guards and—”

“That’s the problem,” she interrupted. “Dean disbanded the old guard, because we didn’t know which ones were loyal to John, and which ones to the Crown, and we’re still on the process of forming a new one. We’ll have to rely on you and your men to help us keep Dean safe until we’re ready. Alastair is not a honorable man; even when he first lived here, he was a coward dressed like a gentleman. If he comes for Dean, it won’t be to challenge him to a duel; it’ll be poison, or an arrow, or a knife in the back. It’ll be dirty and not fair and that’s what terrifies me.”

It was a complicated situation, Castiel thought. With a new king, and the power balance of the kingdom shaken after an enemy invasion and the dethronement of the old monarch, Dean’s death would not only break Cas’ world, it would also send Winchester into utter chaos. Even if Prince Samuel was back, he hadn’t been in the capital for years, and remained a shaky figure at best in the eyes of the people and the most power hungry nobles.

No, Dean’s survival was of the upmost importance, not only for Castiel’s sanity, but for the stability of Winchester. That’s what he would tell Gabriel, anyway, when he inevitably asked the reason why Castiel was asking for more of his men.

“You’ll have the Empire’s support,” he assured Lady Joanna, and she lost the worried expression and smirked at him for a second.

“I’m sure we will,” she said, and Castiel looked away.

The courtyard was quiet by the time Castiel arrived. Most of the nobles he’d seen during the trial were there, and so was King John, kneeling on top of the wooden platform usually used for small theatric productions or royal announcements. Prince Samuel was kneeling beside him, speaking into his ear with a vicious expression that made Castiel very glad that he wasn’t hearing what the man was saying.

Dean was nowhere to be seen, which made sense. He would probably wait until the last possible moment before appearing. Lord Robert was standing by the king, not looking at him, and the executioner had already come out, black hood covering his features.

All of a sudden, trumpets started singing, and Dean came out of the same door Castiel had walked out of moments earlier. He was wearing black robes, but the red royal cape over them, clearly speaking of grief, but also of the intent to take over as king immediately, even if he wasn’t wearing the crown. It would’ve made sense if he had, but Castiel knew Dean enough to figure that he would consider it disrespectful.

Dean went to stand by Lady Joanna, as a mere witness to his father’s execution, and the second Prince Samuel saw him, he came down from the wooden platform to join him. Dean smiled weakly at him, but his smile vanished the moment Lord Robert opened his mouth.

“We all know why we’re here, so let’s not waste any more time,” he said, and then he proceeded to recite all the crimes King John had been accused and proven guilty of. When he was done, and with a last, regretful look at a man who he’d probably considered a friend at some point, he left the platform and went to stand with Dean and Samuel.

The executioner stood over the king, who wasn’t gagged but remained silent, and raised his sword. When it came down, most people looked away. Castiel didn’t, because he hadn’t been looking at the king in the first place, but at Dean. Neither he nor his younger brother looked away.

And it was done. King John of Winchester was dead.

There was a moment of silence, and then the crowd began to dissolve. The new king and prince of Winchester were the last ones to leave, with the notable exceptions of Lord Robert, and of course, Castiel himself. Dean finally looked away from the place where his father’s body had fallen, and his gaze landed on Castiel. Green met blue, and Castiel’s heart broke when he saw no emotion in Dean’s eyes. Was he too shocked to feel anything, or was he feeling to much to feel anything at all.

Still, Cas didn’t look away, and tried to convey as much warmth as he could with his eyes, and they stayed like that, staring into each other’s eyes, for the longest time, until finally Sam’s wife, who’d been standing quietly in the back, came and led her husband gently away by the arm. Lord Robert squeezed Dean’s shoulder and then left, clearly battling his own emotions.

Castiel knew he had no right to approach Dean, and so he didn’t, but he stayed there, standing, looking at him, never once looking away, until the new king of Winchester left the courtyard.

“Excuse me, General,” a messenger he recognized as one of Gabriel's caught him on his way to his room. Castiel stopped. “The Emperor directed me to give you this note after the King’s execution.”

He handed him another folded piece of paper, and Castiel wondered how Gabriel had been so sure of the trial’s outcome. He shrugged it off. It was Gabriel.

“ _Dear Cassie_ ,” the note read.

“ _If you’re reading this, it means that bastard of a king is dead. I have further instructions for you_ ,” Castiel stopped reading for a moment. Was he being summoned back home? Hadn’t Gabriel told him not to leave until he apologized to Dean?

“ _Don’t leave Winchester. In fact, don’t ever leave it again, at least not on my account. I am officially dismissing you from the Heavenly Army, if that is what you choose, and I know you will. Stay in Winchester. Stay with Dean. Apologize to him and make things right, and decide what you’ll do from there, but I don’t want to hear from you until you’ve stopped moping around like a lovesick puppy._

_Your one and only Emperor,_

_Gabriel_ ”


End file.
